


Spaghetti Night

by Rhinozilla



Series: Detroit 07 [7]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Adorable Connor, Connor Deserves Happiness, Father-Son Relationship, Food, Gen, Hank Anderson & Connor Friendship, Hank Anderson Deserves Happiness, Humor, Post-Peaceful Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), Slice of Life, android biology bullshit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-14 11:15:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19272160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhinozilla/pseuds/Rhinozilla
Summary: Hank discovers that RK800s were designed to be able to eat small amounts of human food as part of their social integration programming, and Connor has never tested it. So of course he gets Connor to try eating. It's an eye-opening experience.





	Spaghetti Night

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, you clicked on it knowing full well the premise doesn't make sense. Watch me merrily bullshit my way through anyway. XD

Contrary to the piles of takeout containers and pizza boxes consistently piling up in the kitchen every other week, Hank knew how to cook. Once upon a time, he had been pretty good at it. Maybe his cooking wheelhouse didn’t have a lot in it, but those things that he could cook, he could cook pretty well. He had mostly abandoned the practice after…after. He got by instead on frozen instant meals, fast food, or at best some hastily thrown together sandwiches.

But…hey, things were looking better now than they had in the months. The smell of vodka had finally dissipated from the kitchen. He was getting better quality sleep, and his stomach was a lot happier with him for not shoving greasy food down his throat on a regular basis.

Now, it was just semi-regular.

At any rate, tonight, he was making spaghetti. It was the one dish that he had never completely given up on making during those dark years. It was easy to make, and it was easy to make in a large quantity for leftovers. Hell, just boil some pasta, heat up some premade store bought sauce, slap them together and boom…instant meal.

And, okay, yeah, he was still just boiling pasta and heating up premade store bought sauce, but he’d gone the extra step and made garlic bread and…at Connor’s guilt tripping face…a little salad to go with it. Now, the smell of warm garlic bread filling the kitchen and the sound of pasta boiling made him feel like a fucking chef.

“Are you sure you don’t want any assistance?” Connor had been eying the boiling pot of pasta.

“Yep,” Hank replied, placing a colander in the sink and turning off the stovetop burners. “I’ve seen you cook. You micromanage the Hell out of a simple recipe.”

Connor frowned, knowing that he was referring to the Chili Incident last week. “I still don’t understand what metric ‘a pinch’ is supposed to be.”

Hank chuckled and strained the noodles through the colander. He took the pot of simmering sauce from the stove and set it on the table on a black wire trivet that he didn’t remember buying. Probably another one of the many little additions that Connor had unleashed on the house since moving in. For a detective prototype model, the kid was domestic as fuck when he wanted to be.

The magnetic timer on the fridge started to buzz, and Hank turned off the oven, opening it up and using potholders to pull the sheet of toasted garlic bread of the rack.

God, it smelled divine.

“You are enjoying this a lot more than I had anticipated,” Connor remarked, sitting with one chair pulled away from the table.

Sumo had planted himself between Connor’s knees and was lapping up the double ear rubs that the android was giving him.

“Been a while since I did this,” Hank confessed, piling the noodles into a separate bowl and carrying it and the tray of garlic bread to the table. “Forgot how good it feels to make your own food yourself.”

“I’ll…take your word for it.”

Hank nearly forgot the haphazard little salad that he’d thrown together. He’d slathered it in enough dressing to surely ruin any benefit the salad itself was, but whatever. Baby steps. He popped open a can of cold soda, plopped into his own chair at the table, and gave a satisfied sigh. He set about piling the spaghetti on a plate, burying it in sauce, and plucking up a few pieces of the garlic bread.

“Androids must see eating as an inefficiency, huh?” he asked between bites. “You guys just throw back a bottle of thirium every now and then and you’re good.”

Connor tilted his head thoughtfully. “I can’t speak for other androids, but I merely see the consumption of food as it is: a means for organic beings to absorb nutrients to maintain their health and strength.”

Hank smirked, taking a drink. “That’s the boring way to put it. Food’s supposed to be good for you, sure, but it’s also supposed to taste good. It’s not just…sustenance.” He looked at Connor. “I know androids can’t consume food, but do they have a sense of taste at all?”

Connor glanced at the spaghetti and back to Sumo, drooling on his knee. “One of the side effects of deviancy in androids is the heightening of the senses. Taste as a sense was mostly seen as superfluous by Cyberlife, unless it was culinary models who were programmed to taste test food that they served. So…yes, deviant androids do have a sense of taste. I choose to deactivate it for most of the day due to the nature of work.”

Hank grimaced, thinking back to just the past three days, about all the evidence that Connor had ‘analyzed.’

“However, the RK800 line was equipped with the capability of consuming small amounts of material, like food, without causing damage.”

“You can eat?” Hank nearly dropped his fork.

“Only as a social integration tactic,” Connor pointed out. “And only in small amounts. The design was specifically for use in disposing of analyzed evidence.”

Hank paused. “Do I wanna know?”

Connor gave him a blank look. “It is very dissimilar to the human system of digestion, if that’s what you’re suggesting. Since my model was designed to analyze evidence, I have a filter that collects all ingested material for later disposal.”

“Huh,” Hank grunted. He twisted his fork through the remaining spaghetti on his plate, thinking. “Have you ever tried it? Eating, I mean?”

Connor blinked. “No. Why would I?”

“Social integration.” Hank waved a hand. “You just said it yourself. Wanna try it?” He nudged the bowl of spaghetti.

Connor looked at the noodles and the garlic bread before back to Hank. “Why?”

“NOW you’re gonna get picky about what you put in your mouth?” Hank snorted.

Connor pouted a bit, locked his jaw, and turned in his seat to face the table more fully. “Fine, I’ll humor you.”

Trying not to look too amused at the idea, Hank grabbed another plate and fork and doled out a modest little helping of noodles and sauce and the smallest piece of bread on the tray. He wasn’t sure what exactly constituted a ‘small amount’ that Connor could ingest. He didn’t want to make the kid sick in his first attempt at eating food.

Hank knew he failed at hiding his amusement watching Connor figure how to hold the fork, mimicking what he had observed in humans. Hank telegraphed his movements, pushing his own fork into his spaghetti and twisting it to fill it with noodles. Connor awkwardly mirrored him, his face so serious in concentration that Hank had to consciously not laugh.

“There you go,” he encouraged when Connor held up a bite size forkful of spaghetti. “Now you just—“ He put his own fork in his mouth, closed his lips around it, and pulled the fork out clean.

Connor kept his eyes glued to Hank, verifying that he was doing it right as he also put his own fork in his mouth, closed it, and pulled the fork out. He seemed to struggle with keeping his mouth shut and holding the spaghetti in. He put a hand over his mouth to help and looked to Hank as if to ask: now what?

Hank chewed and swallowed his mouthful of noodles before speaking

“Now you chew, you knucklehead.”

He had never seen anyone look so perplexed as Connor slowly, with great focus, worked his jaw up and down in a chewing motion. His LED was spinning yellow as he did so. The image told Hank that Connor had definitely been telling the truth about having never eaten before.

He also saw the moment that his sensors processed the taste, because Connor abruptly looked up at him, jaw frozen mid-chew, and his eyes lit up. Hank laughed out loud at his derpy expression, leaning back in his seat. Connor was now sitting bolt upright, chewing a little faster now that he was getting some reward for it.

“Easy, don’t scarf it down like a hawk.” Hank chuckled.

Connor consciously slowed down and started to concentrate again as he took on the next step: swallowing. Hank took another bite, chewed a bit, and then tilted his head back, making a gulping movement. Connor dramatically recreated the movement, choking a bit. He raised a hand to his throat and externally seemed to stimulate the synthetic muscles into a swallowing motion.

“Wow,” Hank said slowly. “That was horrifying to watch.”

Connor completed the act of swallowing and stared at the remaining spaghetti, smacking his tongue around in his mouth as he contemplated this new experience. After a long minute, his LED transitioned back to blue.

“Thoughts?” Hank prompted, shoving another forkful into his mouth.

“That was…pleasant…and unusual,” Connor admitted. “I believe I’m starting to understand why humans desire for their food to have flavor. Comparatively speaking, Thirium tastes…awful.”

Hank grunted curiously, picking up a piece of garlic bread. “What does it taste like? Been wondering since I first saw it.”

“Like…metal or…not quite…nail polish remover…It’s difficult to describe.” Connor’s face pinched a bit in distaste now that he was thinking about it.

Hank waved the garlic bread casually. “Then don’t. Try the bread.”

Connor picked up the piece on his plate, looking a little put off by the garlic residue that stuck to his fingers. He held it in front of his face too long, and Hank could practically see him analyzing its chemical composition. The yellow LED showed up again to confirm it.

“Just bite it,” he said flatly.

Connor frowned and stared at Hank as he slowly put one end of the bread in his mouth and delicately bit down on it. Hank might admit that the bottom of the bread ended up a little crispier than he’d intended. Connor had to bite a little harder to crunch through it, baring his canines a little.

Holy Hell, it was like watching someone eat in slow motion. Hank tried to keep his patience.

Finally managing a bite, Connor chewed a little more comfortably this go around, and he bobbed his head a bit as it processed. This time, though, he didn’t sit upright and send Hank the wide eyes when the flavor registered. Instead, he seemed to turn into goo, slumping forward on his elbows on the table. His eyes half rolled back, and an inappropriate sounding noise groaned up out of him.

“Jesus Christ.” Hank leaned away uncomfortably.

“Oh mah gah, thith ith—“

“Don’t talk with your mouth open. Shit.” Hank dramatically lifted a hand to shield his eyes from the sight.

Connor however was in another dimension and didn’t appear to hear him.

A dimension made of garlic bread.

Connor was staring lovingly at the remaining bread in his hand, slouched forward in his seat and chewing slowly to make it last. His LED was a contented blue again. Hank subtly slid the plate of the rest of the garlic bread away from him. When he finally swallowed, he did so with a happy sigh.

“I take it you like garlic bread?” Hank asked flatly, poking his salad with his fork.

Connor nodded dazedly, taking another bite of it. His eyes pinched closed, and he made a fist with his free hand as he chewed. The fist came up and pumped the air once as he gave another loud moan of approval at the taste. He sat back in his seat, basking in garlic flavored heaven.

Hank chuckled and left him there, picking his way through the rest of his meal.

Connor didn’t lunge for another piece of garlic bread when he’d finished off the first one, but he did suck the garlic off his fingers as he looked thoughtfully at the unfinished plate of spaghetti in front of him.

“God, you really are like a toddler sometimes,” Hank teased. “A big, goofy, robot toddler.”

Connor glared at him a bit, taking his finger out of his mouth. He picked up his fork and started twisting more noodles onto it, pouting slightly.

“You asked me to try human food. I am trying human food. It is not my fault that humans make food delicious.” He shoved the forkful into his mouth and chomped on it.

Hank shook his head as Connor failed to get the entire scoop into his mouth, leaving one noodle hanging out. Connor continued to glare and made an O with his lips, sucking the noodle in like he’d watched other humans do with pasta. Sauce had effectively made a ring around his mouth.

“I am not a baby. I’m a professional and fellow detective,” he said firmly to Hank. “Do not condescend to me.”

“All right, Mr. Professional. Wipe your mouth.” Hank tossed a napkin at him.

Fortunately, whatever sensors monitored material intake cut Connor off before he could gorge himself too badly. Unfortunately, Hank didn’t have such sensors, and he ended up beached in his recliner an hour later, feeling all of the noodles and bread starting to expand.

Connor looked infuriatingly unaffected by the same misery, sitting on the couch and placidly watching the game on TV.

“You doin’ all right?” Hank asked anyway. “Didn’t overdo it?”

“No,” Connor answered with a light shrug. “It was interesting to finally test those sensors and explore my sense of taste. I’m looking forward to trying other types of food in the future. Perhaps the next—Hurp.”

Hank perked up in his seat at the bizarre noise that cut in. Connor’s hand flew to his mouth, looking equally alarmed.

“Did you just…Was that a burp?”

Connor grimaced and pulled his hand away. “I believe so...”

Hank laughed, easily winded from being full of spaghetti himself. “Another fun side effect of eating.”

Connor’s grimace remained, and he half stuck his tongue out in displeasure. “Why does it taste bad?”

Hank howled with laughter at that.

“The garlic bread betrayed me…” Connor whispered, coughing a little to clear the tainted air from his ventilation system.

“Wait, wait, I think I got you beat…” Hank paused, feeling a burp of his own coming on. He held up a hand, pointed at Connor, made a face, and belched at him.

It was Connor’s turn to look horrified.

“That…is disgusting!” Connor’s voice carried mortified disapproval, but the corners of his mouth were quirking up in amusement.

Because burps were funny dammit, and, professional or not, Hank figured, at the end of the day, an android could be just as much of a gross male as any human he had ever met.

He’d never been more proud.

“So.” Hank kicked back in the recliner again, folding one arm behind his head. “What do you want to try next? I’m thinking something spicy. What do you know about…jalapenos?”


End file.
